Breathe
by Jimmy the Gothic Egg
Summary: Sometimes life overwhelmed her. Sometimes, things got too much. Sometimes, she forgot how to breathe. Yes, I dare to update.
1. Memories

Another AU I'm going to start. My inspiration for _Phases_ is lacking, as is _Remedy_, but I promise an update sooner or later on both accounts. This is another story inspired by the second book in the series. I've got another story for after I'm finished with _Phases_, because this is gonna be another update as I please one. Actually, all my stories are now update as I please, because weekly updates are too much. I don't have the attention span. I _am_ promising two updates/uploads per week though, and I hope _Phases _will be next on the list.

Anyway, I've ranted enough. Let's start off with the **basic disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to Crescent Moon. If I did, I'd never finish the series thanks to my short attention span.

_Breathe_

**Chapter One: Memories**

He was drowning. Things were grabbing him, holding him down, something gagging his mouth so he couldn't breathe. He struggled beneath the weight, struggled to make some noise. His vision was pitch black. Memories flashed before him: a man and a woman hugging him; a taunting cry; a horrified scream; blood everywhere; a pretty young girl; a boy holding the girl in his arms; _himself_ holding the girl in his arms; memories jumbled and flashed. Then stopped. Freeze. He saw himself, strapped down, fighting, bleeding…

Dying.

His world went black.

A light, piercing through the darkness like some holy beacon.

…Not holy. Far from it. Evil, cold, drawing him in.

"_Death is not an option…"_

Someone speaking…

"…_We must keep him alive…"_

Someone else…

"_But this will help him…"_

His eyes blinked open, the surreal reality attaching itself to him again, anchoring him down into life.

"…It's time to wake up, Mitsuru…"

◦◦◦

Mahiru sighed, pushing back a strand of blond hair. It was a dreary day, cold and wet with a 90-percent chance of gloom and doom. She glanced down at the bottle of pills in her hand, the ones her therapist had given her. That seemed to be the theory today: take your pill and everything will be alright.

She was sitting on her bathroom counter, her legs pressed against the wall, suspending the above the toilet. She'd been sitting there all morning, staring at the stupid pills almost as if she were going to take one, but not quite.

With another sigh, she twisted the top open and poured the pills into the toilet, using her foot to flush it.

And so began another day in Mahiru Shiraishi's life.

◦◦◦

Mitsuru battled with the straightjacket, squirming within it like a bug caught in a cocoon. He even started biting it with such desperation, but that stopped once he calmed down. A few hours later, he took to counting the buckles on the straightjacket out of sheer boredom. All he could see was white: white walls; white floors; white bed; and a mirror that was most likely a two-way one. He considered trying to break through it, but decided against; he was too weak to escape anyway.

A hidden door slid open; the door was also white and blended into the room so easily, he'd completely missed it. A woman stepped through wearing a long skirt and a baggy top, along with the usual white-robed doctor wear, her hair tied back. She pulled out a notebook and studied him curiously.

"That's weird…" she murmured, flipping through the notebook.

He made no response, merely turned his head and sat back. Slowly she moved toward him and knelt down beside him.

"Mitsuru Suou," she said, no hint of pleasantries in her voice, "You were announced dead yesterday morning. Last night you were put in here. You hardly look dead to me."

He remained silent, but turned to her with a half-curious look.

"Alright then. Since I know your name, I ought to give you mine. Kieko Himura. Now…"

She grabbed his head forcefully, surprising him. Her fingers seemed to sink into his head, into his mind.

"…Let's see I we can't get a look inside that head of yours."

◦◦◦

Mahiru pulled the door open, her eyes half-closed drowsily. A cheery face greeted her, sunglasses closed over light blue eyes, blond hair sweeping over his face.

"He-e-e-ey, Mahi-"

She slammed the door shut and turned back to the couch.

"Mahiru!" Nozomu shouted from behind the door, banging on it with his fists, "Open up!"

She turned the volume up on the TV.

"'Hiru! You know if you don't open the door I'm coming in through the fire escape!"

She sighed, turned the TV off, and opened the door.

"What?" she asked crossly.

"I got a call," he swept his sunglasses off casually in the manner that normally drove the ladies wild, "from your shrink."

"Why is he calling you?" she eyed him carefully. Saiko Pisuto had been her shrink for the past two years, and he'd never mentioned to anyone on her number list anything that went on during the sessions.

"I'm your emergency contact. He figured it was time to call for an emergency."

"Nozomu, I haven't spoken more than five words to you in the past two years. I wrote down that number because you were the only person I knew."

"About that. Have you made any new friends yet?"

She glared at him. "…No."

"Well there's your problem. Come on 'Hiru," he grabbed her arm, "We should go out somewhere."

She yanked her arm free and crossed them over her chest. He gazed at her, his expression softening.

"Mahiru… It's been two years."

Her lips tightened; her eyes hardened. He reached out to her again; she flinched, stepping sideways.

"Go."

"Mahiru…"

"I said go."

"Fine," he flipped his sunglasses back on and flashed her a smile. "But I'm not giving up."

She had a feeling he wouldn't.

◦◦◦

Keiko handed the notebook to Hokuto.

"What's this?" he asked, skimming the small handwriting.

"Notes. You set me up with a session, I got your information. His mind was very organized. Wasn't hard to pull out files and read them. I guess that's what happens when your mind's a copy of a past life." She paused. "I wasn't sure what you were looking for…"

He smiled. "Don't worry. I've got special plans for this one."

Keiko shrugged and left him to his maniacal laughter.

◦◦◦

Mahiru sat beneath the covers, the phone in her lap. Tears dripped down her cheeks and she wiped them away. Slowly she picked the phone up and pressed the speed-dial: number 5.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" Nozomu's voice filled her ears.

"N-Nozomu," she sighed, "Maybe… maybe you could…" She swallowed. There was silence, but she could practically hear his smile.

"Sure, 'Hiru. I'll be over in a minute."

She muttered a goodbye, hung up, and groaned into her blanket.

**Author(ess) Notes:**

So there's the start of the AU. Confused? Understandable. All will be explained in due time, I promise. Yes, Mahiru's seeing a shrink. Good job for her though, not taking those pills and everything. But a depressed Mahiru is a thoroughly depressed Mahiru. She's mean at Nozomu for a reason, soon to be explained (hopefully.) I was going to make Misoka her shrink, but I decided against it; I have a better role for him and Akira too.

So, thanks for reading and **please leave a review so I won't be so damn whiny all the time.**

-Jimmy G.E.


	2. Dreams

Urgh. I'm having a hard time updating because I'm grounded. I'm sneaking onto school computers just for you.

_Breathe_

**Chapter Two: Dreams**

Mitsuru was frozen in a state of shock. That woman… That woman had sorted through his _mind_. For a second time he'd seen all his memories like a movie. And once again he'd been confused. He'd seen his memories, but he didn't recognize anyone or anything within them. It was like someone had played a movie that he'd seen a long time ago and only looked vaguely familiar.

He groaned and rolled over, deciding to attempt to escape from the straightjacket again.

˚˚˚

Mahiru had given Nozomu the honor of putting on real clothes (jeans and a shirt) instead of her usual pajama pants and oversized tee. The thought hit her that Nozomu might think more of this than she, but she shook the thought out. Nozomu was not known for over thinking things.

Maybe he had been right, she thought absently as she heated some water to make herself some rice. (There would be some left over if Nozomu wanted any.) Maybe she'd hung onto _his_ memory for way too long. Maybe it was time to let go…

…Maybe not.

She sighed. Maybe talking to someone other than her therapist would help.

Maybe.

˚˚˚

"What did you say your name was again?" Keiko asked. In her spare time Hokuto had given her a yawn little job as his receptionist. She would be the best judge of who came and who wouldn't be allowed.

"Misoka Asagi," the short man answered. Beneath his sunglasses was a smirk, one that could not be seen on his stony face. "I'm coming in place of Oboro Kurosaki."

Keiko eyed the man suspiciously and stared at the computer screen. "There's no Oboro here."

"Surely there's a record. We've… invested in the Yamabuki boy."

Keiko nodded, thoughts clicking together. Hokuto wouldn't keep actual clients on file; too easily found. What they were doing wasn't necessarily "legal."

As to the Yamabuki boy, he was the shape-shifter they'd "taken in." Akira. She'd been his "doctor" for two months now. He was enjoyable.

"Door's that way," she pointed to the left. Misoka nodded and walked through.

Keiko turned back to playing with her tarot set.

˚˚˚

"So this is the new one…"

Misoka peered with extreme interest through the two-way mirror. The boy inside was squirming inside his straightjacket, a look of determination on his face.

"What are you thinking?" Hokuto asked.

"I must confer with Oboro-san first, but he could be a worthy investment."

Hokuto frowned. "We're still unsure as to what we've granted him. A few more searches, though, and we'll be able to find what we're looking for."

"You have an odd institute here," Misoka commented vaguely. "You advertise yourself as a mental ward, but a few of your patients are considered dead, and you allow people to… own them?"

"You had interest in the wolf-boy," Hokuto ignore his comment, "And now you wish for this one. Such odd selections…"

"You wish to know our business with the boys?"

"My clients; my business."

Misoka cast him a sly grin. "What if I told you I was going to put them to work in a bar?"

˚˚˚

_She felt warm hands caress her cheeks, kisses trailing across her shoulder and up her neck, nipping it slightly. Warmth spread through her as she felt arms wrap around her, pulling her close. Heat pooled into her stomach, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest, in tune with someone else's; she knew it was him. He was _there_, with her. She was happy, complete... He kissed her, softly, tenderly. She returned it with ferocity, holding onto him because he would disappear, she thought, if she let him… He would be gone…_

"Mahiru?"

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was greeted with the visage of Nozomu, staring over her.

"You okay?" he asked.

She frowned. Apparently she'd fallen asleep on the couch. "Yeah," she answered curtly, sitting up.

"You looked like you were having a weird dream."

She turned away from him, feeling an overwhelming sadness dwell over her.

"…I'm fine."

Nozomu nodded and stood up. "You want me to leave or…?"

She could tell the hopefulness in his voice. He was trying to help… But she didn't want him to help. She really just wanted to be left alone.

But…

"…You can stay… if you want…"

He grinned. "I'm irresistible, aren't I?"

She made a noise of discontent. "Don't push it."

A chuckle. "I'll try."

She sighed and went into her room to get ready for bed.

**Authoress Notes:**

Sorry for lack of updates last week. I tried to sneak on, but it was hard.

Anyway, short chapter, but it should tide you over until I update _Phases_ (two more chapters to go) and upload my Valentine's Day story. - -


	3. Deja Vu

Wow. It's been a while since I've written for Crescent Moon. This story is hard.

_Breathe_

**Chapter Three: Deja Vu**

"_Please don't…"_

Mitsuru's face twitched in his sleep. He let out a small groan of pain.

"_Mitsuru, please don't! I'm sorry! Come back…"_

What was this voice? Who was it? There was a stabbing feeling in his chest, a burning there he couldn't quite place.

_The voice died out in the distance, a lump in his throat. He was angry, mad, he wanted to… wanted to…_

Anguish washed over his features, not so much a physical pain anymore.

…_He wanted to kill someone._

There was a sudden pain in his stomach that took his breath away, but this had nothing to do with his dream. His eyes shot open, and he saw Keiko standing over him, a distant look over her face.

"Are you awake yet?" she asked without the usual gruffness. She wasn't completely there, but Mitsuru wasn't paying attention. He realized she'd kicked him in the stomach. "You sounded like you were in pain."

Well that didn't help, he thought angrily. He bared his teeth at her, squirming like a worm in his straightjacket to face her, sitting up. She dropped the tray in front of him, and the food almost spilt over.

"Eat," she murmured. She turned swiftly, leaving as quietly as she'd come.

He growled angrily. The damn woman forgot to loosen her straps.

* * *

Mahiru felt her vision go fuzzy for a minute, and her hand slipped as she sliced the apple. She held in a breath as she felt the sharp knife slice into her skin. She dropped it quickly, drawing up her finger for closer inspection.

There was a fine line of red, and the blood slowly began dripping down her hand, falling into soft pools on the countertop.

She stared it a minute, giving an insincere: "Ow."

Nozomu stirred in the next room. She quickly jammed her finger into her mouth, holding it there until she could find a band-aid. The blood had startled her. It was… unsettling. She remembered… Had it been two years already? Yes, two years ago…

Lost in thought, she stumbled into the living room. Nozomu noticed the finger stretched inside her mouth and grabbed her arm, yanking it out to get a better look.

"Stop it," she chided. A new red welt had begun to form, coming all too quickly. Her vision shifted for a moment, like contacts falling out of place then sliding back in. "I'm getting a band-aid."

Then, he did something that completely surprised her.

He licked the blood that had reformed away, kissing the slit.

"Is it better now?" he asked.

She stared at the finger, eyes wide. No, no, no…

He moved forward, pecking her cheek, the corner of her mouth, catching her fully on the lips. Mahiru was too shocked to move, to protest, maybe even give in. All she could feel was warm blood trickling across her hand. There was nothing else, just cold, frozen numbness, spurts of heat where he touched her. This was wrong though: wrong, wrong, why was she doing this, why didn't she stop him, why, why, why, WHY?

She pushed him away, shoving him hard. He fell backwards, and she fled, slamming the bathroom door behind her, locking it.

Nozomu sighed from his landing position and stretched out his arms. He was an idiot. Why had he done that? Oh, yeah. Because he still loved her, even after all those years.

But something disturbed him now, something he never would've noticed unless he'd gotten so close. Mahiru wasn't warm to touch. She was like a doll now, a robot programmed to live its life until the battery gave out.

He wondered if, two years ago, it was Mahiru who died along with her lover.

* * *

"I'm sad."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Yes."

"What? Tell me."

"I shouldn't. It's bad, that we carry on like this."

"Carry on like what? We're friends, I don't care what **he** says. You can tell me anything."

"Do you really want to know?"

"Of course."

"I'm sad because you're leaving."

* * *

The door rattled violently.

"Go away!" Mahiru shouted over the porcelain tub.

"'Hiru! You have to let me in!"

"I'm not dressed, so _go away_!"

"It's not like I've never seen you naked before!"

She rose a bit out of the bath. "When did that happen!"

"Okay, I haven't, but I've seen you _half_-naked. Isn't that the same thing?"

"NO! Go. A. Way."

Nozomu let go of the knob and slumped against the door. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, it was stupid, I shouldn't have done it. Now talk to me."

It was silent from the other end. The water stilled, and sounds of Mahiru moving around stopped.

"…Mahiru?"

Silence.

"…Mahiru? Are you…?"

He stopped. From the other side of the door he heard tiny sniffles. There was a pained, raspy breath, and he let go of the doorknob once more.

"…I really am sorry, Mahiru. I'll come back tomorrow."

He left without another word.

* * *

"_He was insane!"_

"_What happened!"_

"_He tried to rip my neck out **with his teeth**!"_

"_You didn't hurt him, did you! Where is he!"_

"_I was just protecting myself. I don't think he was even drunk!"_

"_Is he okay? Please tell me…"_

_A hand on her shoulder, meant to be a comforting gesture, but all she felt was cold. Would she ever be warm again?_

"_Mahiru, I think he's dead."_

* * *

"What the hell?"

Mitsuru was… startled.

Down his arm, and halfway across his chest, through the straightjacket he'd now been forced to wear all day, no thanks to that Keiko woman, was a blurred red line. He stared at it before realizing his chest felt wet, and so did his arm. There was no pain at first, but now it came, white hot as it stabbed across his body. He felt himself fall backwards, hitting his head hard on the floor. There was a familiarity to it, a deja vu that left him gasping for air. Or maybe that was the pain. Or maybe it was the sudden sense of someone nearby, someone warm. There was a slight tingly across his chest as a phantom-person wrapped their arms around him. The pressure grew stronger now though, and he cried out as the pain sharpened. His vision blurred, and he had the vague sense of blood forming around him. He tasted blood, smelt it, it was all around him.

"_Stop! Please don't!"_

What was that voice? He could hear it in his head, the phantom speaking to him.

"_Is he dead? No! He can't be!"_

A dizzying blur of images racing through him. Anger, rage boiled up within him, and felt only hatred.

_A beautiful girl wrapped in the arms of another man. Dread filled him as they kissed, too warmly, too friendly._

The physical hurt had numbed now, but his head felt like it was exploding. He just wished it would, to end the pain.

"_Look, buddy, you're really pissing me off right now."_

What had happened to him? What was going on?

"_It really is a shame you decided to go after me. I was looking for a fight."_

That was his voice, bitterness, anger, taunting a second party.

"_You bastard, what the hell!"_

He knew what it felt like to be cut by a knife.

"_I told you. It wasn't very smart of you to decide to fight me."_

It had happened to him twice in one night, after all.

**Authoress Notes:  
**And that is where I leave you.

A bit of Nozomu/Mahiru in here. It's okay.

Does anyone have any idea what's going on? I demand theories!

**Review!**


	4. Past Wounds

Okay, so I haven't updated since… June. I'm trying, really. What's really cool is that today is the one year anniversary of the day I started this fic. Chew on that.

Am I the only one who wonders, if Keiko and Hokuto are brother and sister, why don't they have the same last name?

_Breathe_

**Chapter Four: Past Wounds**

"Hokuto!"

Keiko stomped into the room, flinging the door open. Her face was twisted in anger, an expression that Hokuto was used to. He waved his hands at her, making an obvious gesture to the body on the table. Keiko's eyes went wide and she covered her mouth, hiding the small gasp.

"You didn't, did you?"

"This is certainly not the time, Keiko," he said in an impassive tone.

"But… I saw… There was…"

She bit down on her lip. Yes, she could see he was still bleeding. Mitsuru had reached unconsciousness when she'd found him, a pool of his own blood forming wider and wider. She'd run for Hokuto, to tell him. What had happened?

"I do not know what happened," Hokuto continued coldly, a clear sign she should leave. She ignored it, deciding that her payback for what he'd done yesterday was to be as defiant as possible. "It has something to do with his memories."

That's right, she thought. She had glanced at his files. He had died in a fight, being cut open with a knife. Had something triggered a reaction in his body, reopening wounds?

"But I thought…" She swallowed, trying to turn away from the body. "I thought you wiped them clean. I was supposed to… I mean I did… I mean…"

"Not _now_, Keiko. Make sure the other one is ready." He turned to her. "You are able, aren't you? A scare like this could disturb your powers."

She nodded shakily. He sighed, moving forward, placing a hand on her arm. He lightly brushed her lips, his expression and voice warming.

"Just once more, and then you can do as you like."

She nodded again, turning. Tears had started forming in her eyes, but she didn't want him to see those. These tears were for one person, the same person she was going to see just now.

Because Akira Yamabuki was leaving today, and she wasn't sure when she would see him again.

---

"_You really shouldn't be here."_

"_I know, but I wanted to make sure you were okay."_

"_Why wouldn't I be?"_

"_Because…"_

"_Because **what**?"_

"…_It's just that… I don't like… him."_

"_You wouldn't."_

"_It's not just that. I just think… Is he… Is he hurting you?"_

"_**What**?"_

"_I don't want to accuse him of anything, but…"_

"_But **what**? Why would you even ask that?!"_

"_Because… He seems…"_

"_He's **not**. I don't even know why you would think-"_

"_Because you're always so… depressed now."_

"_**Depressed**?! No, I'm not depressed. I'm angry. Why do you even stick around? Why don't you just leave? Why don't you just get out of my life?"_

"_Because I still love you, Mahiru, no matter what you think."_

---

"That hurt."

Mahiru looked up. Nozomu was in her doorway, rubbing his nose.

"Oh. You're here."

There was distaste in her voice. He almost winced.

"You didn't have to slam the door in my face."

"Yes, actually I did. Do you still have my key?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah."

She held out her hand expectantly, motioning for him to give up the key. He sighed, taking it out of his pocket and placing it in her palm.

"Why do you keep coming back?" she asked, turning back to what she had been doing: cleaning up the living room. She hadn't been this active in a while, and she had a grudging thanks to Nozomu for that.

He stood back, an uncomfortable stance. "You already know. I don't like repeating myself."

She gave a huff. "You shouldn't keep coming."

"You're up and about, right?"

She turned away, giving a slow nod.

"That's reason enough for me to stay."

It was best to ignore him, she decided. Ignore him and forget the reason he kept bothering her. It was his fault anyway. As much as he denied it, she blamed him…

Funny. Her vision was going blurry…

"_Mahiru!"_

---

There was a moment, just before Mitsuru reached consciousness, that he felt a presence beside him, one he'd felt many time before. The warmth of someone sitting next to him, leaning against his shoulder. He saw, like a TV that doesn't work quite enough for you to see more than distorted images, the splintered face of a woman he can't quite recall. She was saying something something, something important, and he could almost hear her.

Then he woke up.

---

There was a moment, right before Mahiru reached consciousness, that she felt a presence beside her. It was one she recognized well, one she refuses to forget. The piece of the puzzle missing from her desperate life. She wanted to call out to him, just to know he wasn't completely gone.

Then she woke up.

**Notes:**

Okay, I made you wait forever for the cheapest update.

Just be happy I'm updating.

You know the worst thing about writing stories? All that rising action. I want to get to the best parts, but I have to make it work.

Bleh. **Just review.**


End file.
